


Of Colds and Migraines

by Wolfcry22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Dean Winchester, Brotherly Affection, Common Cold, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Dean Winchester, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad Sam Winchester, Sick Character, Sick Dean Winchester, Sick Sam Winchester, Sneezing, The Impala (Supernatural), Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26908669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22
Summary: Sam has a migraine. Dean has a cold.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	Of Colds and Migraines

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a quick oneshot about how Sam having a migraine and Dean having a cold just don’t mix. Both are awful in their own right, but put together and it is just agony. This is a fluff story to the core with Dean being an awesome big brother even when he doesn’t feel well. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Minor warning for blood from a nosebleed.

The Impala hit a bump as slow as Dean could manage it. Even that sent the already cowering and shaking Sam into a whimpering frenzy. He covered his ears and eyes at the same time as he cowered even more into the corner of the passenger seat. Dean gritted his teeth when he looked over at him.

"How you holding up, Sammy," Dean asked.

Sam threw his hand in a backward motion at his brother halfhazardly. "Not so loud," he mumbled just above a whisper.

Dean hadn't thought that he was being loud, but he assumed that Sam was just taking things so hard since he had a headache. Sam had been silently complaining about it for a little while, but now it seemed to be worsening. He had made it through the hunt of a werewolf pack just fine, but as soon as the two had gotten into the Impala, he crashed.

"Is it the visions," Dean wondered in such a low whisper that he barely heard himself.

Sam mumbled something so low that Dean couldn't understand. He decided not to press him too much. When Sam wanted to talk he would, but that time probably wouldn't be anytime soon and Dean couldn't blame him. After all, he had gotten some pretty severe headaches in his days after a concussion. But, he was pretty sure that Sam hadn't hit his head this time, at least not that he saw. He would have to check his brother over just as soon as he could tolerate it.

Suddenly, Dean felt like there was something at the back of his throat. He leaned forward and coughed into a fist and struggled to compose himself. Coughing like that was sure to push Sam even closer to the edge than he already was. Dean could just see the pain in his brother's eyes.

"Dean," whispered Sam, letting out a low moan.

Dean nodded as he looked to Sam, sympathy shinning in his deep green eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he chided as he swallowed a few painful swallows. "I'll try to be quieter for your headache."

Sam shook his head ever so slowly. "Migraine."

Dean barely heard it, but he knew that Sam would've had to have a migraine to be talking like this. Dean gritted his teeth as he felt another cough threatening to puncture the silence. "Sorry. Sorry. I'll be quieter."

There was silence in the Impala only interrupted by Sam's whimpering. He twisted in the seat with his hands thrust over him, breathing so quietly that Dean could barely tell if Sam was breathing at all. He sighed heavily as he slowed down just a bit and decided to stop at the first motel that they saw on this barren Missouri road. 

It only took about ten more minutes before Dean finally saw the glowing neon sign of a motel. He turned into it softly, but Sam still whimpered. Dean reached over and rested a hand on Sam's head only to have Sam pull away just as swiftly. He squeezed his eyes shut as Dean parked the Impala. 

"I'll be right back, Sammy, okay? Hang tight," Dean told him as he climbed out of the Impala and walked toward Sam’s door. He suddenly felt a sharp prick in the back of his nose that halted him dead in his tracks. He dove forward and sneezed harshly into his hands. 

"Huh'ITcshSH! Huh'ItcshSH! Huh'ItcshsHsSh! Huh'ItschSH!"

Dean straightened as he sniffed heavily, feeling the itch just spread despite the impressive sneeze attack that was supposed to quell it. It wasn't quite enough to send him into another sneezing fit, but it was certainly annoying. He rubbed roughly at his nose as he shook his head to clear it. He turned to look at his little brother to see if Sam noticed, but Sam was still cowering in the seat the same was before. There was no way that he could've heard his brother’s display.

"This isn't good," Dean muttered to himself as he continued to rub at his nose firmly with the side of his hand. Once he was finished he quickly headed in and bought a room. He headed back out when he was done and saw that Sam was still curled into a ball in the passenger seat, and still had his hands over his face and looked beyond tired.

"Oh, Sammy," whispered Dean as he walked over to the passenger door and opened it. Sam looked up in shock with alarm clear on his face. "It's alright. It's okay. I just wanted to get you out and into the motel room."

Sam still looked beyond annoyed at that proposition. However, he pulled his sweatshirt almost over his eyes and stood slumped against the car. Dean grabbed both of their belongings and helped his little brother to the motel room with Sam almost falling into him. He kept his face angled away from the sun, even though it was relatively bright all around.

"Almost there," Dean encouraged as he nearly shoved Sam the rest of the way. As soon as he helped Sam in, he started to shut the blinds and make it as dark as possible, but that was almost impossible with the thin pieces of cloth that dared to call themselves blinds or curtains. "Sit down, Sam."

Sam stayed where he was, nearly shaking as he looked around. His sweatshirt was still struggling to cover his eyes and Dean could only imagine the pain his brother was in.

Dean walked over to Sam and nearly threw him down on the bed. He eased the sweatshirt from Sam's eyes just to find him hurry to thrust it back on. Dean frowned and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Sam, I have to make sure that you don't have a concussion," Dean sympathized, knowing exactly how painful this would be for his brother.

Sam took a moment to take in what Dean said only to shake his head, trembling in the effort to keep himself from falling over. "N-No," he stammered urgently. "I'm fine."

"Let hell you are, Sam," Dean snapped before he realized that he had raised his voice. Sam whimpered and drew away from his brother, hands instinctively pressed against his ears. "You can hardly look at me. I haven't seen you this bad in a long time."

"M'fine," mumbled Sam.

Just the sound of Sam's weak voice broke Dean's heart. He gritted his teeth together as he looked around. "Sam, you have to work with me. I can't help if I c-can't Huh'ITcshSh!"

The forceful sneeze escaped him too late. However, just the sound sent Sam reeling backwards. He hunched over so he looked two feet shorter than he was as the sweatshirt fell from his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and thrust his hands over his ears tightly. He looked absolutely furious, at least as furious as he could without his eyes actually being open.

Dean quickly rubbed a forceful hand against his slightly runny nose before he turned back to his brother. "I'm so sorry!"

"Shut. Up," hissed Sam as he hunkered down even more so that he was nearly kneeling on the floor. "Hurts."

"I know. I know. Sorry. I didn't feel that one coming," Dean tried to explain, but realized that it probably didn't mean much to his agonized brother in front of him. Instead he thought of other ways to help. When Sam was younger he liked when Dean massaged his head and neck and that sometimes helped with headaches, but Dean doubted that Sam wanted him to touch him right now. It seemed like whatever Dean did it was the wrong thing.

Suddenly, Sam collapsed on the ground. His hands left his face as they curled into fists. They didn't shake, but he seemed to almost tremble.

"Sam," shouted Dean in alarm, completely forgetting about Sam's raging headache.

Dean dove forward and rested a hand on Sam's forehead and shoulder in an effort to steady him. He felt heat pulse through his fingers and when he looked down he saw blood running from Sam's nose. Sam's eyes almost rolled up in his head until the trembling stopped. Sam didn't wake up and strangled breathing noises were coming from his parted lips.

Dean tried to rouse him gently, but while still shaking him. "Sam. Sammy!"

It took a few more moments before Sam shot up with a gasp. His forehead collided with Dean's and the two of them scrambled backwards from the force. Dean rubbed at his forehead. It was sore, sure, but Sam was in absolutely agony. He yelped in alarm, snuffling the blood from his nose while whimpering in pain.

"Sorry, sorry," Dean told him, secretly relieved that Sam was conscious again. However, he was sure that Sam's latest vision wasn't helping with his migraine. "Are you okay? You were out for a little bit."

Sam stayed with his hands over his head. Dean sighed as he reached out and grabbed Sam's hands and pulled them away from his face momentarily. Sam squinted his eyes as he looked over to Dean. "Dean, stop," he complained weakly.

Dean started to rub small circles into Sam's hands to try and calm him down. "Sam, you passed out. You had another vision. Did you see anything," he questioned slowly.

Sam gritted his teeth together, sniffing deeply. The blood continued to run down his face and Dean quickly patted Sam's shoulder. "Alright, I'll be right back," he whispered as he rose to his feet and headed into the bathroom of the motel room and picked up a box of tissues that were sitting on the corner of the sink. He carried them back over to Sam and kneeled down beside him.

He grabbed a bundle of tissues and began to wipe up the blood from Sam's nose since Sam was no condition to do so himself. Sam was so busy rubbing his fingers against his aching skull that he barely recognized what Dean was doing. Dean continued to rub at Sam's nose gently as he cleaned up the blood. Suddenly, he held his breath as he turned away from Sam.

"Huh'ItshHs! Huh'ItcshSH! Huh'TcshSHsh! Huh'ITCshSHSh! Huh'TcshSH!"

Sam glared at Dean and Dean looked up almost panicking. He grabbed the tissues from beside his brother and blew his nose as softly as he could since his sneezing was very loud. He looked up at his brother to see that his nose was bleeding once more.

"Sorry, Sabby. I dond't dknow whadt's wrong with be," Dean confessed as he sniffed heavily before he brought out another tissue and started to come toward Sam.

Sam drew back. "Don't touch me."

"Sabby, your dose is still bleeding," Dean told him as Sam finally stopped fighting him. Dean rubbed Sam's nose and cleaned it up as best as he could.

Sam sighed heavily as he leaned forward in exhaustion. At first Dean wasn't sure if he should've stayed there, but just as we was about to move, Sam looked up. "You're sick."

"Whadt," asked Dean since Sam's voice was so soft and low.

Sam gulped as he tried to clear his throat. "You're sick," he echoed as he nodded slowly to his brother.

Dean shook his head adamantly. “As fit as a fiddle, Sabby. Dodn't worry aboudt be," reassured Dean as he grabbed Sam's hands. He started to squeeze the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Sam seemed to partially relax as Dean continued to massage his hands. "Thadt bedder?"

Sam nodded slowly so that he could actually open his eyes partially. "Yes. You're sick."

"Sabby, whadt did I tell you," Dean grumbled as he sniffed once more to keep his nose from running. "I'b fine. Just a liddle sneezy is all."

Sam didn't seem to believe him, but his head was still pulsating even after Dean trying to make it better, so he was in no mood to discredit his brother. He closed his eyes as he looked to the bed. "Tired," he mumbled thickly.

"Do you wandt to talk aboudt your vision first," Dean offered hopefully. 

Sam raised an eyebrow. "I'm not five, Dean. We don’t have to talk about things because I got a little twitchy.”

That sounded more like the Sam that Dean knew. Even though it was an insult to him, Dean smiled and nodded. "Alright, how aboudt you gedt some rest and then tomorrow we will talk aboudt your vision," Dean suggested so that it was more like a compromise instead of an order.

Sam thought about arguing with his brother, but his head was just throbbing so much. There was no way that he could continue like this. "Okay, but you have to sleep too," Sam rasped.

Dean struggled not to roll his eyes. He needed Sam to rest and Sam wouldn't if Dean wasn't resting. Dean guessed that he would've said the same thing if things were reversed. He frowned as he looked at the two single beds. "If I gedt sobe sleep then you will too?"

Sam nodded slowly as he stood up in trepidation. Dean walked over to Sam's side and helped him sit down on the bed. Sam pushed Dean away in embarrassment as he kicked off his shoes and socks and climbed into the bed. He breathed loudly as he pressed his head against the pillow.

"Huh'ItcshSH! Huh'TsShsh! Huh'TicshSH!"

"Dean," cried Sam in alarm.

Dean barely felt the sneezes until they propelled themselves out of him. He sniffed half heartedly and glanced at his brother. "I'm so sorry," apologized Dean as he snuffed again.

Sam moaned as he turned and pushed himself deeper into the pillow. "Please go to sleep and stop sneezing.”

Dean couldn't blame Sam for being on edge and grumpy like that. He probably would feel the exact same way if he got migraines as frequently or as painful as his brother did. But, they were going to have to hope that a night's rest would make both of them feel at least a little better.

"Alright, man, I'b goig, I'b goig, but I expect you to tell be whadt thadt vision is tomorrow when you wake ub, godt id," Dean told him very sternly. Although, the threat was empty considering that all of Dean’s words were helplessly softened by congestion.

Sam just shrugged as he threw the covers over his head to block out any potential light. Dean decided that was going to take the high road and listen to his brother, especially because we really was starting to feel awful. He had no idea where this had come from; this cold seemed to strike out at him out of nowhere and he couldn't explain it. It was the last thing that they needed right now, especially with Sam having another vision like this and a migraine.

Dean smothered some painful coughs into his wrist before he climbed into bed, curling almost into a ball with his knees drawn up to his chest. He massaged his chest lightly with his fist while he listened to Sam groan from the other bed. Dean sniffled deeply before he sat up and looked over.

"Sab," Dean questioned as he sniffed again and felt the moisture retreat deeper up his nose. "Sab!"

"Dean, stop," Sam whimpered. "Hurts."

Dean stifled a sigh as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Just as he did that he felt the feathery impulses of a sneeze shoot up his nose. He quickly blinked his eyes in an attempt to stop it, but that wasn't having the desired effect. He finally lifted his hand and wrapped his thumb and forefinger around his nose to stifle it as best he could.

"Huh'Txhsh! Huh'Itcxxsh! Huh'Itcshzh!"

They were as stifled as Dean could do with what little practice he had trying. He quickly surfaced and sniffed painfully as he felt the pressure flood through his nose. He swore under his breath before he walked over to his brother and nudged his bulk. "Move over."

Sam turned around slightly and squinted at his brother. "Dean, what are you—“

"Jusdt scoot over and shud ub," Dean snuffled as he rubbed his nose vigorously with his wrist. "I dknow how do helb and I probise I wond't sneeze on you."

Sam could hardly understand his brother's stuffy talk, but he was just too tired to argue. He turned on his other side and closed his eyes, still whimpering deeply. He the felt the bed dip as Dean settled beside him. Dean started to massage Sam's temples once more with rhythmic motions of his fingers. "Bedder?"

Sam didn't answer with words, but he did let out the tension that he was holding in his body. That seemed like a win for Dean. Just now he was going to have to figure out how to stay quiet through this cold for the time being and help Sam. Unfortunately there was no entry in the Hunter's Journal for that. But, they would adapt. They always had and they always would. That's just what they did through colds and migraines alike.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed and are staying safe and healhty!


End file.
